Dance, Water, Dance
by Nagone
Summary: It has been written into Demyx's life, and he cannot erase this. Written in honor of 6/9 or Zemyx Day.


**Dance, Water, Dance**

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A Demyx and Zexion Fanfiction

Dedicated to: Michael-Keehl97 on dA

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Summary: Goodbye my almost love. Goodbye my last, hopeless dream. I can't stop thinking about you, and I know you'll never let me be, so I might as well live in this, rather than turn my back on you. Zexion knows that that would be the easiest way to think, but he can't turn his back on Demyx the night before they both know that Sora will kill him. It has been written into Demyx's life, and he cannot erase this.

Rated: M for Character Death, MalexMale relations, and Sensitive/Harsh Language

Genre: Tragedy and Romance

Style: One-Shot

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Author's Note: I wrote this after realizing at 8:30 on 6/9 that it was Zemyx day. I was soon reminded by Mihael-Keehl97 on deviantart, and I was really inspired to write something for two of my favorite characters. This is an experiment, because I rarely use songs as a base, but I used A Fine Frenzy's  
"Almost Lover", which made me cry during this fic. I poured every bit of love I could into this, so enjoy "Dance, Water, Dance".

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**Dance, Water, Dance**

He sang him soft, Spanish lullabies, whispering them like the ocean grazing a cliff side when its soul was broken. A mane of wild, blond-brown hair fell down across creamy, sun-kissed skin in wet strips, pants emptying into the air. Pale hands, pale as a vampire, pale as death, ran across the wet hair like fingers on a piano.

No words need to be said. He couldn't simply turn his back on him. He couldn't just forget the images of the millennium, eons, years, days, months, _seconds_ that had transpired between them. He pressed his hips to the older adult beneath him, kissing the mop of blue-grey hair. He knew it would happen tomorrow. He was too kind. He knew he would not survive, not against that boy of magic spells and hope and _life_. No, he didn't even exist. What right to life did he have?

The two figures frotted against each other, desperate to not think about the next day. They could not let each other be. They could not say "so long" or "I'm sorry" because it wasn't their fault. They were born for the Kingdom of Hearts, damned to die in it's stead.

But they could not let go.

They moaned and joined together, the sun-kissed male singing sweet Spanish lullabies about babies cooing for their mother's milk at night and of children finding magical sweets given to them by Santa Muerte . The oldest of the two, pale as death herself, cried out soundlessly, tears falling like crystallized drops of emotion onto a set of dark, stained sheets, stained with sin and debauchery and _love_. But the oldest could not deny it. His love, no, his _life_ would die tomorrow. They knew it.

"Demyx..." The blue-grey man crooned, sobbing as Demyx thrust into him harder, deeper, filling him. Zexion swore he could taste Demyx's girth on his tongue, he was so deep inside him. He sickly wondered what would happen if Demyx pieced his heart during their moment, and from it came a sick chuckled and a chocked sob. Demyx and Zexion joined each other in completion.

"Zexion..." Demyx muttered, kissing the man. "Love you... Don't want to die..."

"Demyx..." Zexion crooned, his voice desperate. Since when had he become such a girl? Since when had the logic of 'everyone dies' escaped him? No. This was his _love_. Screw the World That Never Was. Fuck Xemnas and his Kingdom Hearts. Fuck Sora and his quest for the light and that silver-haired twit. Fuck the world and everything in it. "Demyx!" Zexion was borderline hysterical, sobbing and wailing and pounding his fist into Demyx's chest.

Demyx simply smiled, tears running down his cheeks. This water could not dance, nor would Demyx have wanted it to. He was scared. Xemnas, Ansem, whomever, had designed him to die at Sora's hands. There were no controls to reset this, no system that would allow him to have multiple chances.

No.

Demyx was going to die, and that was that.

"Hush, love. Let's dance one more time. Please, for me, let's dance." Zexion nodded and sobbed through the motions, crying out and spiraling into a white-hot blaze of orgasmic pleasure as Demyx sweetly sang and strummed him to completion. Zexion cried out Demyx's name and clung to him, trying to use every bit of his power, of his _love_, to trap the man from the fate that the knew neither could escape. Zexion would live and fade, but Demyx would die and not _exist._

They danced, like water rolling upon waves that crashed cliffs and shook worlds. Demyx was the fluid powering Zexion to _live_, to _breath_, to **exist**. They were no longer art or perfect: they were shattered and were holding onto the last bit of life they could. This was death for them. Demyx was being sent to death. There would be no **Santa Muete** for him, not even a **Hades** to guide him home. There was a cold ocean of darkness and an eternity of never existing.

"DAMN HIM!" Zexion shouted. The inhabitants of the castle lay awake in their rooms, his voice shaking them to their very cores. Axel clung to Roxas, kissing his forehead. He whispered 'Never us, baby. Never us' to the blonde, even though he secretly knew that he would fade one day from the fire starter's arms. Xion sobbed softly, the sadness too much for her 12- year old spirit. Even Larxene felt a tear run down her cheek as she nestled into bed next to Marluxia, who held a rose colored red as blood. The whole castle seemed to weep tears alive with Zexion as he anguished in the pain of losing his soul mate. It seemed like it had only been yesterday that they had met and made love and departed and made love again. "IT'S NOT FAIR!" Zexion shouted, shaking the mobiles hanging from the ceiling of Demyx's room. "IT'S NOT FAIR, IT'S NOT FAIR, IT'S NOT FAIR, IT'S NOT FAIR!" Zexion raged on, Demyx rocking him back and forth until exhaustion wracked the lexicon-bearer's body.

"Zexion," Demyx whispered, tears rolling into his lover's hair. "Zexion..."

"I'm ready sir," a voice chimed, hooded stretching of a mop of gelled spikes mixed with a mullet. The figure bowed and opened up a portal. He turned slowly, and smiled, waving. "Please give this to Ze- Number XI for me, sir."

Xemnas nodded. "Very well. Do your best, Number IX. Don't fail us, for you must live and die for Kingdom Hearts. Fear not, we will pull you back from you resting place." Demyx smiled and nodded, stepping into the portal. He'd come back someday, as the Superior had said. But he knew that was a lie. Death was permanent. Demyx would never return. Sora would strike him true to the heart, and would chase out the ocean, the torrent of love that had invaded the hole in his chest. Demyx knew he was real. He could not discount what he felt. Demyx flipped his hood down, taking one last glance at the castle.

"Gosh," he whispered, a sad smile tugging his cheeks. "I wonder who will take my room now." Demyx nodded and flipped his hood up and reached his hand through the portal into darkness, humming about two lovers under his breath, the sweet Spanish flowing and flowering over his lips.

"Adiós mi casi amante," he whispered softly, tears rushing down his cheeks as he stepped out onto the rock- hewn battlefield. He didn't even put up a fight as Sora struck him true. "Sobreviva para mí. Devuélvale en mí, y sobreviva. Lléveme ninguna angustia." Demyx smiled as he felt Santa Muerte pulled him into her arms and sing of children and candies and sweet and of love and life everlasting.

Zexion had tomes that spoke of a woman that rescued children after death that was wrongly done. He prayed, something he had though he'd never do, that Demyx would be saved by a woman like that, someone that would hold him until the day that Zexion would be able to right join his lover once more. There were no almost lovers in this.

There was only _them._

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Author's Note: I'd really appreciate your feedback. This was incredibly hard to write, and I had to stop many times during this to cry and wipe my eyes. If you've never listened to "Almost Lover", do it now, and you'll see the emotion it yanks from you. I don't regret having written this, but I leave you with these few words: If you love someone, don't ever let them go. Love had a way of working out. Work with it, don't just throw it away. And love someone proper. Don't just love because it's there. Find someoen that you love, and express it daily. Don't let them become an almost lover.

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Translations

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Adiós mi casi amante- Goodbye... My almost lover

Sobreviva para mí. Devuélvale en mí, y sobreviva. Lléveme ninguna angustia- Survive for me. Turn you back on me, and survive. Bear me no heartache.

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**Additional Information**

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Santa Muerte- She is death personified. There are many Spanish churches that worship her as a sort of off-shoot of God. That is not to say that they are not Christian: instead, the recognize death as a personified being, and honor her as the woman that tends to the dead. She is very much like a "Mother Mary" figure in some sects of the Roman Catholic church.


End file.
